Tigress' Cage
by Blur Feather
Summary: Tigress - a deadly HYDRA assassin - and Joyce - Steve's little sister, even smaller then pre-serum Steven, book worm - couldn't be more different... but the same could be said for Bucky and the Winter Soldier. Both are different sides to the same coin. How through everything will she be able to pull through this? (Sorry that summary sucks. Story is way better, promise.)
1. Joyce

_Many HYDRA scientists and workers scrambled around. making the final preperations while the Winter Soldier stood silently in the corner, being the main guard. Watching everything with blank eyes._

 _In the middle of the underground room was an upward pod that was iced over and brightly lit up. Cold mist rolled off of the tube like pod. And the super soldier vaugely thought that it was similar to his._

 _The hustle settle down, but the air was tense and thick with anticapation. It wen real quiet, real quickand then there was a loud hiss and low, airy breaths._

 _A hand appeared against the glass of the pod door - it looked small and fraglie. But the open hand soon clenched into a fist and the pod door was kicked off of its hinges, causing the super soldier to raise his gun to the open pod._

 _The mist soon cleared, revealing a pale woman with long dirty blonde hair that covered her naked torso._

 _Her eyes were half liddled, but were the brightest blue - the color of a cloudless summer sky at noon._

 _She was muscular, but still feminine with soft curves and wide hips. She looked about 19 years old, maybe a little old and was tall at 5 feet and 9 inches._

 _Her lips, pale red and full, were parted slightly and drew in ragged airy breaths. And her eyes were as dead as his, but unfocused._

 _The first thing that the assassin noticed was her right leg. It wasn't bone and flesh, but metal and gears - like his left arm. He paused for a second before meeting the woman's eyes again._

 _They were directly on him with laser focus, her breathing had evened out and had gone silent._

 _She took a step forward, out of her pod and the doctors stayed put, curious to see how the two assassins would react to each other._

 _The blonde continued her stalk towards the Winter Soldier, like a tigress stalking her prey. The male soon realized how h was being treated and pointed his gun at the blonde's heart._

 _She didn't stop her prowl, didn't even flinch, she walked right up to him. The end of his gun pressed flush to the top of her breast._

 _She wrapped her hand around the barrel of the sniper rifle and stared intently into his ice blue eyes. Some type of long forgotten emotion bubbled up in her summer blue eyes, but then it quickly disappeared._

 _She pushed the gun away from her chest, the male allowed her to do this for some reason. Then she opened her mouth to speak, but the lanuage that left her lips wasn't Russian. Instead it was English, causing everyone to go on high alarm._

 _"You are **Him**." The male didn't get the time to think on this for the next instant there was a sharp pain in his neck and then darkness._

oOo

Bucky bolted up in his bed, a cold sweat clung to his heated skin. It was dark, but moonlight streamed in from the open blinds. With his flesh hand, Bucky grasped the knife under his pillow and looked around.

In the bed next to his, Steve was sound asleep curled into a ball. Instead of sleeping with his husband on the floor above them.

Bucky thought about his options with the surfacing of new memories. He could wait until morning to Steve about them, letting them float around his mind for the next couple of hours. Or he cold awake his best friend now while the memories are fresh in his mind. The brunet decided for the latter.

So he crawled out of his sweat soaked bed, knife clutched in his flesh hand as he shook his best friend awake with his mechanic one.

Steve woke instantly with fully alert bright blue eyes. The blue eyes from his dreams were similar, but different, and the blonde woman from his dreams who had those eyes, looked oddly similar to Steve.

The blond male sat up and looked worriedly at his best friend. "Something wrong Buck? A nightmare or memory?" He questioned softly, his eyes taking in the sight of a shaken Bucky .

The brunet took a deep, calming breath. "Yea, I remembered something back during HYDRA." He paused to gather himself, then pushed forward. "I think there's another super soldier like me." He stated, and Steve paused, his body tense.

"Working for HYDRA?" Steve confirmed this with a nod from the brunet. They fell into a momentary silence, both men's expression serious and thinking.

"It was a woman." Bucky stated slowly, and Steve quietly encouraged him to continue. "She was young... maybe 19 or 20... With long blonde hair and blue eyes... She was a couple inches shorter than me..." Bucky seemed to struggle with this next part. As Steve rubbed his back in support, Bucky kept glancing at his cybernetic arm. "She... Her leg was like... it was like my arm..." Bucky sighed ruefully. His face twisted in anger and long age pain.

Steve was quiet for a while, thinking about the newly received information, while rubbing soothing circles on the brunet's back. before checking the clock and seeing that is almost 4:30 in the morning.

The taller super soldier sighed and ran his free hand through his bed head - which wasn't bad, only made him look more like the dork he is, in Bucky's humble opinion - and gave Bucky a small smile.

"Do you want to find her?" Steve asked his long time best friend, though he was fairly certain of the what the brunet's answer would be. He was proven correct when Bucky gave him a stiff nod.

"Can we bring Natasha?" Bucky requested and was given a confirmative nod. "Tell her to bring clothes too." The brunet added, getting a raised brow and a questioning look from the blond besides him. Bucky smiled a little at him, scratching the back of his neck.

"She's frozen naked, from what I remember." The brunet explains and Steve looks surprised and slightly angered.

"Okay, do you remember what her name was?" Steve inquired as he got out of his bed to grab some work out clothes.

Bucky's brows pinched together in thought. "No.. I don't know her real name, but I remember what they called her." Bucky stated, at the end looking up and meeting Steve's baby blue eyes.

"What did they call her Buck?" Steve pushed softly as he sat back down next to Bucky.

"Tigress."

oOoOo

Over the next several weeks Bucky, Steve and Natasha looked all over the world for Tigress.

But she was like the same ghost story that Bucky once was. And Natasha had actually met the Tigress before. During her Black Widow training in the Red Room.

She also said that Tigress had long blonde hair with blue eyes and a cybernetic right leg, similar to Bucky's arm. Though Natasha said that she looked a year or two older than what Bucky said. Maybe 21 or 22.

It was the sixth week into there hunt when the trio located the underground facility speculated to harbor the Tigress. Bucky even vaguely recognized it.

Though when they get to where she's suppose to be, they find her pod door barely hanging onto its hinges and the pod itself, riddled with bullet holes.

There was blood everywhere. In large puddles on the stone floor and splattered along the walls, some managing to get on the ceiling. Some of the blood patterns look like they came from guns, most are from a blade attack. Looks like a massacre. But there weren't any bodies. And the blood was barely over a week old.

Suddenly several knives were thrown at the trio. Thanks to his reflexes, the Captain jumped in front of the two assassins and blocks the attack with his shield.

When Steve lowered his shield, he saw a young woman who matched the description of Tigress. Metal leg and all.

She was indeed naked with her long hair the only thing covering her nudeness. Her blue eyes were wild and scared, pupils tiny, but were focused intensely on Steve and his every movement. Her breathing was ragged as her summer blue eyes locked with Steve's baby blue ones.

There was a long, tense moment of silence as a huge range of emotions blazed in Tigress' eyes and played out on her face; before her eyes widen in disbelief and shock. Her puplis going huge as she visibly recoils, though she begins to tremble and takes a shaky step forward. She began to mumble incoherent Russian, which neither fluent Russian speaker could decipher.

But there were two words that they could make out as she continued to get closer and louder. She kept saying, "...brother?... Steve?..." The rest was still to muddled to understand clearly.

Bucky's eyes widen with recognition as the realization hit him. This was Joyce Rogers, Steve's baby sister.

Steve figured it out a split second after Bucky did. "Joyce?" He called out uncertain, but you could hear the hope in his voice.

Joyce instantly froze to her spot and whimpered, flinching away from them. Accidentally dropping the knives in her hands as she wrapped her arms around her torso, taking a step back.

Steve took a slow step towards his sister, heart beating like a war drum. The larger blond placed his shield on his back and took off his helmet, slowing placing it on the ground, keeping his eyes on Joyce's the entire time. He stood up just as slowly with his hands open and perfectly in her view.

Joyce stared at Steve's face for a long silent moment, then took a tentative step forwards. She took another after a moment of nothing happening, then another shortly after, and another - until she was within touching distance.

One of her arms slowly pulled away from her body and brushed her fingertips along his jaw and cheekbone. Steve leaning minutely into the feather light touch.

Though Joyce abruptly pulled back and she snapped her eyes to Natasha, then whipped them over to Bucky. The two cybernetic assassins locked eyes, just like in Bucky's dreams. Though he got an opposite reaction from her.

Her pupils sunk and her eyes darkened with fear and hatred. Steve took a step forward, causing Joyce to whip her eyes to him and hiss as she backed away.

"Stay back!" She yelled at them in English, shocking the trio. Joyce took their momentary pause and sprinted away into the shadows. Bucky was the first to react, followed by Steve and Natasha a half second later.

However, due to her metal leg, Joyce was able to out run the three of them and escape into the wilderness that surrounded the compound.

Steve slumped against a tree after they lost all traces of Joyce, sliding down it, looking ready to cry as he held his face with his hands.

"Who was Joyce?" Natasha asked Bucky in Russian quietly, as they gave the grieving brother some space.

"She's Steve's little sister." Bucky replied quietly in Russian, his voice downcast. Natasha looked slightly suprised, though hid it well.

"I didn't know." She said slowly.

"Not many did. She died in October of 1939 from double pneumonia..." Bucky trailed off, his brows knitting together. "But appearantly she didn't die and was taken by HYDRA." Bucky's eyes drifted over to Steve, his back was turned to them, with his shoulders slumped in.

"Joyce was more ill- bodied then Steve before the serum. If you could believe it, she was tinnier and skinner than he was. But she made it up with her spirit and always had her nose buried in some book from the library. She and Steve were really close and when she die..." Bucky trailed off, shaking his head. "He was devastated for lack of better words. He would into more fights and cared less for himself... It wasn't a good time for him."

Natasha nodded sadly, both former assassins looked at the grieving Captain. He stood up all of a sudden and told them that they were leaving with a emotionless voice, that both could see right through. Yet both silently followed his commands and soon they were on the Quinjet heading back to New York.

Though they were unaware of the being that clung to roof of the plane as it zoomed through the air to the Big Apple.


	2. Reactions

Joyce waited a good hour before she slowly descended from her spot on the plane, she was in a large room with full of other things that look similar to the thing that she was just on.

She ran along the walls to where she saw the trio exit. Joyce found it and pressed the down arrow - since there was only a down arrow. The metal doors open and Joyce walks in, the doors closing behind her.

"Where to?" A monotone English male asked, from somewhere. But Joyce was alone. She licked her lips and asked to be taken to where... Steve... was taken to.

The request was apparently invalid, and the bodiless voice asked Joyce to try somewhere else. So Joyce tried again, this time thinking of something that just _had_ to in a building of this size - a kitchen. The fact that hunger gnawed at Joyce's stomach was not lost to the blonde, but she wouldn't risk eating their food.

The request was accepted and the elevator went down and Joyce stood calmly to the side, out of way, should anyone join her. Though no one did as the elevator stopped smoothly and Joyce got off, foot steps silent.

She's greeted by a large living room at the far end of the room. It had a large dark leather couch and glass coffee table, with a love seat and a couple recliners, all directed towards a large flat screen. Closer to the elevator, in front of the living room section, was a long glass dining table that could easily sit up to 12 people. The elevator opened up to a huge kitchen with a loft on top. It had beautifully polished dark marble counters and a large island with dark cherry wood cabinets.

Joyce walked into the kitchen, looking through the different cabinets and drawers, being a naturally very curious person. When she opened a drawer near the stove, it revealed an assortment of many different types of culinary knives. Some short, some long, some thin or thick, there was a circular one. It was a pizza cutter if Joyce recalled correctly.

In the distance, there was the sound of a door opening and closing. Along with foot steps that increased in volume. Joyce grabbed a craving knife and silently closed the drawer. Climbing up on the counters, Joyce positioned herself on top of the huge fridge. Becoming as still and silent as a statue.

A man about her height, but much bulkier with greasy, wild black hair and oil stained clothes walked into the kitchen, looking half asleep and dead to the world. And there was an odd glow coming from the center of his chest, underneath his tank top. Joyce watched this odd man with mild interest and curiosity as he wobbled around the kitchen, muttering and mumbling to himself.

He looked familiar, but Joyce didn't have the chance to dwell on it, when a the odd man suddenly looked up and their eyes met. Joyce tightened her grip on the craving knife as her body tensed in preparation, her eyes narrowing at him. Ready to strike at a moment's notice.

"Who are you?" He asked slowly, seeing that the naked blonde on top of his fridge had a carving knife in her hand, along with an entire right leg of metal. The design reminded him of Bucky's metal arm.

Joyce ignored his question and there was a moment of tense silence, before the man spoke again.

"What are you doing here?" He questioned and this time, Joyce thought about her answer.

"I'm looking for..." She trailed off, her brows pinched together as she wet her lips. "I'm looking for Steve." She told him slowly, as her eyes drifted across the room, her hand with the knife lowered, relaxing a little.

Her eyes met his again, "He is here... right?" She inquired, a expression of hope and somberness on her face.

"Yes, I'm sure he just got back." The stocky man confirmed, inching his way closer to the naked blonde. "Why are you naked?" He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Joyce spared a glance down at her nude body, and thought carefully about it. "I was never given clothes when I woke up." She explained plainly, her expression now neutral.

"Would you like some?" The man offered, causing Joyce to narrow her eyes at him, her body tensing.

"Not from you." She hissed at him. The man threw his hands up in surrender, but Joyce didn't relax.

Out of nowhere a tall pale man appeared out of thin air, sitting at the island with a young sleeping child in his slender arms. The child couldn't be ay older then 5 years old, and looked tiny in the arms of the giant man. Joyce raised her knife in reflex, though she would never dream of hurting the little boy.

"Loki?!" The shorter man exclaimed, whipping around to see the giant. Whose name is Loki.

"What is it Anthony?" Loki asked, his voice low and calm, looking at _Anthony_ with annoyance, as the child in his arms began to stir.

"You need to get Peter out of here right now." Anthony explained, causing Loki to look up at him from the child named Peter. But quickly it shifted to the blonde woman who was slowly crawling off of the fridge, a carving knife in her hand.

She looked curiously at the child in his arms; her body language making it clear that she was more scared then threat. Which was proven a she put the carving knife back in its original drawer, her hands up in surrender. "A child..." Sadness was heavily laced in her voice. Anthony look over to her with shock.

Joyce slowly made her way over to the duo, crawling on the counters in a crouched way. Loki watched her every move with a calculative gaze, assessing whether or not if she was a threat to the child.

The blonde jumped silently over to the island, now just barely out of touching range. Should she move forward about a foot, she would be able to reach out and hold the sleeping child.

She was sitting with her legs tucked under her, and slowly inching closer to Loki and Peter.

"Is he Peter?" She inquired, making sure she got it correct. There was a deep sadness and long ago pain in her summer blue eyes. Her chest ached as some memories bubbled up to her mind, but she roughly pushed them back down.

Loki was about to answer her when Anthony spoke up instead. "Yes, his name is Peter and mine is -" he was cut off by a distracted blonde.

"Anthony." She supplied. She was looking at Peter with amazement, and a thought bubbled up in her mind. _Would he have looked like this?_ Joyce choked down a sob. She couldn't have children anymore. Her hands pressed themselves to her lower stomach as the blonde looked at Peter with longing. Longing to have a child of her own.

"May I hold him. I swear I won't do anything except hold him?" She promised, desperation in her eyes, as she met his emerald green gaze. There was apprehension and distrust in those green depths. Joyce looked away, her eyes closing, holding back tears. "Never mind me then, I'll be leaving now." She turned to Anthony.

"Should Steve talk about me, tell him to meet me at the park, under the oak." She instructed and was about to leave when Loki spoke up.

"You may hold him." Loki told her softly, watching her as Anthony's jaw dropped in the corner of his eye. Joyce looked at him in pure surprise and barely contained glee and hope. Gratitude sparkling in her eyes, lighting them up.

"Really?" She checked with a hopeful tone and he nodded in confirmation. A small smile graced her lips and she righted herself. Her legs tucked under her as she shifted closer to Loki. The blonde held out her arms ready to hold the sleeping child.

Loki gently handed off the child to the blonde, who held him protectively against her chest. Peter instantly took a liking to the softer body of the blonde, instead of the hard bodies of his fathers and uncles'. His tiny hands reached out and grasped her dirty blonde hair, causing Joyce to let out a small huff of a laugh. She ran her hand up and down his tiny back, soothingly.

Anthony gaped at the woman. One moment she was ready to kill him with a carving knife. The next she was holding _his son_ , as if he was her own child!

The stocky man opened his mouth to yell at the blonde, when Loki held a hand up, telling him to be quiet with a pointed look. He was going to complain, but the God of Mischief shook his head no. And Tony remembered the last time he didn't respect Loki's wishes when it came to Peter or something else of importance.

So Tony bit his tongue as a crazy naked lady held on to his son. But the moment of glowering was interrupted when the sound of footsteps and people conversing reached their ears. The sounds approaching them.

Joyce stiffens and reluctantly gave back gave Peter back to Loki, before standing up and quietly jumping over to the stove, grabbing the carving knife, then perching herself atop the fridge. Turning into a statue. Though it was more like a predator laying and wait for her prey.

Steve, Bucky, and Natasha walked into the kitchen, still in combat gear, and saw Tony and Loki staring up at something on top of the fridge. The trio nearly jumped out of their skin when they saw the very person they were looking for was atop of the fridge in the tower they lived in. They thought she was still in the forests of southern Canada, near the border of New York.

Steve's eyes near popped out of his head as he watched Joyce looked them over. Unfortunately, like before, when she saw Bucky, she froze and let out a whimper. Though instead of backing away, her eyes harden and she launched herself at the brunet, carving knife positioned to kill him. But Bucky caught the knife with his metal hand as Joyce's legs wrapped around his waist.

It all happened to quick to react to and the next thing they knew the carving knife was buried hilt deep in the 80 inch plasma flat screen tv on the other side of the large room, as the former HYDRA assassins were fighting on the ground.

Joyce somehow ended on his back and Bucky was trying to get her off of him. But with her metal leg, it didn't seem possible. But this was Bucky, deadly assassin with plentiful tricks up his sleeve. The brunet dug his metal elbow into her flesh thigh roughly, Joyce let out a hiss of pain in his ear as her grip momentarily lessens.

Bucky seized the moment to rip her off of him and spun around. The brunet pinned her hands above her head with his flesh hand, and pinned her metal leg with his metal arm.

They both breathed heavily and Bucky fought to keep his eyes on her's. Though they were spite and fear directed towards him.

There was a long, tense moment of silence, before Bucky got kneed in the no no spot. His face paled in pain and he rolled off of Joyce, holding his crotch. He glared daggers at her, tears prickling in the corner of his eyes as she sat up, turning towards Anthony.

"I would like those offered clothes now."


	3. Memories

As Tony grumbled over his tv and Steve held Peter, who slept through everything, while Loki read and Bucky sharpened his knives. Natasha took Joyce to her room to get cleaned up and clothed.

Steve and Tony wen over what happened with the forest and in the kitchen. And Steve was surprised about her soft spot for Peter, while Tony was gobsmacked about Joyce being his apparent sister-in-law. Steve hasn't mentioned a younger sister before.

Natasha and Joyce return after a near hour. Joyce was wearing dark jeans, the right pant leg ripped off, that hugged her curves, a black sports bra and an off the shoulders red sweater. Her long blonde hair had been brushed and braided back into a tight french braid. The blonde looked clean with a healthy glow to her skin. Steve openly gaped at her, this was the healthiest that he has ever seen her. Bucky thought the same thing, while he discreetly stared at her.

"Joyce?" Steve called out to his little sister, although she only looked confused at the name.

Natasha snuck up behind Bucky and pulled his hair back into a small half pony tail. She whispered, discreetly into his ear once she was done. "Joyce has at least 2 knives on her right now. She might've snuck more when I wasn't looking." The redhead warned and Bucky nodded his understanding.

Joyce stared down at her feet, one flesh and the other metal, and thought about her past. She remembered a tall man with a charming smile that would make her heart flutter and had beautiful brown hair, that she had yearned to run her fingers through. This man was James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky for short, and he was Steve's best friend.

Steve was her tiny big brother. He was barely 5' 3" and 100 pounds soaking wet. He was an amazing artist and was a fighter and rebellious, despite his numerous health issues. He had a strong sense of honor and strict set of morals.

Joyce winced, cringing at the pounding in her mind due to the forced memories. Joyce remembered herself, somewhere between 4'6" and 4'11", and 20 pounds lighter than Steve. Even worse health and often fainting due to lack of sleep from reading too much. She was completely different from the 20s and 30s. So was Steve.

Joyce looked up to the large, muscular blond in front of her. She studied his features very closely. And after a moment she fully realised that this man _was_ in fact her brother. Joyce paused, walking over to him, placing her hand over his heart, and was surprised to find how strong and steady it felt. Joyce pressed her ear to to his chest and a part of her sobbed with relief that this wasn't some dream.

She pulled back to look at him. "Your heart, you're healthy." She said, disbelieving, but a part of was relieved. Laughing in pure glee at the extraordinary feat.

Steve smiled coyly. "Yea, have been for a while now." He pointed out, scratching the back of his neck.

Joyce paused and suddenly remembered the year. Dread made her stomach turn to lead as it dropped. "Hey Steve, I know that it's 2015 and I was wondering if... James was still alive or had he... you know..." Joyce trailed off, her summer blue eyes downcast.

Steve and Bucky stiffened. Joyce hadn't realized that Bucky was Bucky yet. Steve's face fell as he remembered that Joyce had been in love with Bucky back then. But now, it seemed she wanted to kill him.

 _What do I do? What do I do?_

Bucky and Steve shared a slightly panicked look which Joyce saw. "By the way Steve, way to you have the Winter Soldier here." She asked, her voice dripped with distrust and hidden hatred. The 2 male super soldier best friends shared another look, unsure of what to do and how Joyce would react to it.

"By James do you mean Bucky?"Anthony asked and Joyce nodded. Her face neutral, thought there was an excited sparkle in her summer blue eyes.

"That's Bucky." He pointed to the brunet despite the pointed looks from both his husband and best friend. Bucky glared icy daggers at the other brunet as Joyce turned to look at him, for once taking him in entirely. A part of her screamed at her to either run away or kill him. But then again, a different part plead with her to give him a chance.

The room was tense as Steve looked between Bucky and Joyce.

When the silence was at its peak, it was broken by Joyce's soft demand. "Look at me." She ordered, her voice tight and her face guarded. Bucky turned around slowly and met the blank blue eyes of Joyce with slightly pleading ice blue ones.

Joyce's jaw clenched and her eyes turned hard, yet Bucky could've sworn that he saw tears well up in her eyes. Joyce turned on her heel and half ran out of the room, Natasha following closely.

Steve glared at Tony, who put his hands up in surrender. "No sex for two weeks." Tony's jaw nearly hit the floor. "But Steve!" He whined. Steve gave him an unimpressed look.

"No butts, especially for you. Hey JARVIS don't allow Joyce to leave the Tower, and notify me if she tries." Steve said, and got a beep of acknowledgement from the AI as Loki did his best to contain his snickers. For he was holding the child in his arms once again.

Bucky slumped in his seat, running a hand across his face. He wants for Joyce to trust him or at least not hate/fear him. But he has no idea on how to do that. And Natasha was probably with Joyce right now, so not a good idea to go look for her. He was screwed.

oOo

Joyce sighed as she settled down on Natasha's bed, bringing her right leg on to the bed as well. Massaging where metal met flesh, Joyce scowled darkly as she felt the serious scarring.

"How are you not like Bucky, when he first came to us?" Natasha asked curious, causing the older to look at he with dull eyes.

"I remember you. You were that little spitfire from the Red Room." She pointed out, the redhead's eyes widen slightly as she nods.

"I don't know how he reacted, but I do know how _I_ reacted. It was actually an experiment gone wrong - at least for them." Joyce retold with spite lacing her tone, though she made a smug expression.

"They were trying to make my memory better, more observant, at memorizing smaller details - like the way you pick at the paint of your right ring finger with your thumb when you're annoyed or frustrated." She paused, her eyebrows raised slightly, surprised with herself, before she continued. "But it also did something else that enabled me to unscramble my mind and past enough to know that those were the bad guys." It hurt like hell as she she was able to make out more memories to fight back.

"Then how did you get here?" The former pupil asks.

"I was on the roof of the plane. At least I'm pretty sure that's what it was." She stated confused slightly, and Natasha confirmed her guess with a simple nod. For she was use to this, she was the one who mostly helped Steve and Bucky get caught up with the 21st century. Her and Sam.

"I have a request of you." Joyce said, fully facing her, legs dangling off of the side of the bed.

"Depends on the request." Natasha replied with a shrug, kicking her boots off.

"I wish for you to bring me up to modern times." The blonde requested, making a smile form on Natasha's plump lips. She should've guessed that's what she wanted. Natasha directed her smile to her former teacher.

"It would my pleasure." Joyce sent her a grateful smile.

"Thank you." She thanked the redhead softly, Natasha grinned. "Don't thank me quite yet."

There was a moment of silence before the younger spoke.

"Can I call you Joyce?" She asked and met the shining blue eyes of her former mentor.

"Only if I can call you Nat." She countered.

"You have struck yourself a deal."

oOo

The next morning, Joyce was the first to walk into the kitchen, after a long night of not sleeping. Though she was ket company by Natasha; who was willing to help her catch up with the times. The blonde wore some loose black sweats and a dark yellow crop top, showing off the bottom of her toned stomach.

Joyce's tight french braid remained unharmed as the blonde flipped a knife in between her fingers, while she searched the kitchen for a piece of fruit. An apple would be preferable. She never did get to fully explore the kitchen the day before.

In the distance there were quiet footsteps and two sets of breathing. One more even and slow, they were asleep, and the other carried them with ease. Considering the lack of effort in their breathing. None the less, Joyce tensed, jumping onto the counter silently, gripping her knife as she positioned herself for possible attack.

Though there was no need for it was Steve with a sleepy Peter in his arms who came around the bend and into the kitchen. Joyce sighed and hopped down without sound, placing her knife where she had just been crouching. The smaller blonde walked over to the father-son duo, with a small smile, and wished Steve a good morning. Seeing as Peter was still mostly out of it.

"Hey Joyce, would you hold Peter as I made some breakfast?" Steve asked softly, loving the way Joyce looked at him with surprised wonder. The eagerness that sparkled in her summer blue eyes relived Steve of the scared dead ones from his nightmare last night.

"Really?" She checked, just like with Loki, and she received a nod from a softly smiling Steve. So like before, Joyce took a sleepy Peter, settling him on her flesh hip. Her arms a protect embrace around him as the 7 year old buried his face in her neck, tiny hands grasping her crop top. And not for the first time, Joyce wished for a child of her own.

Joyce leaned against the counter with her knife on it and watched as Steve began to cook. This quiet little moment, reminded Joyce of the way things used to be, back in the '30s and '40s.

Steve and Joyce still tiny and fragile, Bucky always working to pay for the bills. Joyce helping as a teacher's assistant and Steve selling his drawings to where he could. When they all lived together in a small run down apartment and they all had to sleep together, the pair of siblings mooching off of the brunet's body heat.

When times were simpler with money tight and Joyce was helplessly in love with Bucky, Steve struggling with his spirit not fitting his body and Bucky who had to look after the problematic siblings. But now everything was upside down, twisted around and blown up.

They were out of their time and struggling to fit in. Though Steve was already a step ahead of them, having a husband and aborable child. Of course Joyce knew about Steve's homosexuality. She's known before he did. And it never really matter to her, despite the era they grew up in. She loved him for him, nothing would change that. And nothing has changed that. Even now more then 70 years later, Joyce still loves and cares about Steve.

But on the other hand with Bucky... Joyce had absolutely _no idea_ how she should feel towards him, and the different parts of her mind were waging war on how to feel about him. On one end, her '40s self, was begging her to forgive him and let bygones be bygones, to allow him be a positive figure in their life. But on the other end, her Tigress self, was warning her of all the horrible things he has done and is still capable of, that part wanted to either run the other way with Steve and his family or end the Winter Soldier once and for all.

God what was she going to do...

Joyce shook herself free of her thoughts, knowing how deadly it could be to be sucked in. She searched for a way to distract herself.

"Do you still draw Steve?" Joyce asked as she ran her fingers through Peter's soft brown hair, using it to calm and ground herself to reality. The question caused the older blond to paused momentarily, glancing at his sister from the corner of his eye. Steve continued to cook as he answered Joyce's question.

"I do sometimes, when there's a moment of downtime." He answered and Joyce hummed thoughtfully.

"Do you remember back when we were 12 and 14, you drew me a carnation, because we couldn't afford an actual flower in the dead of winter." She retold, a certain fondness in her voice, Steve nodded, remembering it as well. A smile on his lips, affection in his eyes.

"Then for _my_ birthday that year, you got the carnation I drew you and preserved it for me." He added, causing Joyce's lips to twitch up into a half smile.

Peter shifted in Joyce's arms, finally waking up and rubbing his eyes with his fists. The tiny brunet looked up at her with sleepy honey colored eyes. "Who are you?" He questioned, his face scrunched in trying to understand.

Joyce sent a slightly panicked look to her older brother. He was grinning ear to ear, as he focused on the pans before him. Steve - the little punk - made a gesture to hurry up and answer his son, while Joyce was at a little bit of a lost.

"I'm Joyce Rogers." She said, a little uncertain as she hesitantly meets his sleepy honey eyes. "I'm Steve's sister... and your aunt...?" She said it more like a question then a fact. Steve glanced over to his baby and sister. They were staring at each other, trying to get a read on the other.

And Steve couldn't help the little chuckle that escaped him at how the familiar the actions are to him when he thinks of those two.

But then Peter's eyes widen and he grins that goofy smile of his. He giggled loudly and happily and Joyce felt the tension just drain out of her as she held him close to her.

"Weally?! That's so cool! I only have Aunt Nattie, and a whole bunch of unwles!" He exclaimed, using his tiny hands to emphasize his point of constantly being surrounded by mostly males.

"Is that so? How many uncles to you have?" She asked him calmly, a small adoring smile on her face, her heart - for once - light, with a happy sensation bubbling up in her chest.

"There's Unwle Bwuce, Unwle Whodey, Unwle Thwor, Unwle Woki, Unwle Cwin, Unwle Sam." He states, counting on his chubby fingers.

"That's a lot of uncles, good thing you have me to help balance them out." She teased lightly, adoringly. A couple feet away, Steve felt his heart soar. The past 24 hours have been a whirlwind, but he wouldn't change them for anything.

Suddenly, Peter's face lights up like the forth of July. "There's also Unwle Bucky! He's the coolwest! He's got a metal arm!" Peter gushed, and Joyce felt her smile drop, along with her stomach as said super soldier walked into the kitchen, half wake; a knife tucked into the waist band on his sleeping sweats, a black muscle tee, pulled taut over his chest.

" _Speak of the devil_." Joyce muttered under her breath, in Russian.

Peter turned his head and saw Bucky as he made his way over to the coffee machine. He released a happy coo and squirmed in the protective embrace of his aunt, so he could go over to his favorite uncle. Joyce set her jaw, and pushed off of the counter.

"Barnes." Bucky flinched slightly at her sharp tone, and turned to see her holding Peter, walking closer to him. Somewhat reluctantly, by the bland look on her face. "He seems to have taken quite the liking to you." She stated as she hesitantly handed an excited Peter over to the arms of Bucky.

She silently and expertly, stolen his knife as he got Peter comfortable in his embrace. Peter already chatting his ear off about having another aunt.

Peter turned in Bucky's arms to include his aunt who was now sitting on the kitchen isle, two knives hidden behind her, and saw a bit of metal and scarred flesh, on her right, hip peeking up from the low riding sweats. Her right foot hidden behind the left.

"Aunty Joy, what's that on your hip?" He asked, curious as her hand hid her hip from his view. Her face carefully blank as she turned to the observant little boy. She answered him after a hesitant moment.

"You know how Barnes has a metal leg?" She paused, then continued at Peter's nod. She could see the gears clicking together as his eyes glittered in excitement. "Well I have a metal leg." Joyce told as she unhooked her right foot and pulled her pants leg up to her knee. Showcasing the work of HYDRA. Not that the little one knew that. Or ever had to know that.

A smile and joyful laughter spilt out of the tiny 7 year old. "So cool!" He exclaimed, and Joyce felt a ghost of a smile, worm its way onto her face. She released her pant leg as Steve announced breakfast was ready.

As Bucky, set Peter down at one of the seats at the kitchen isle, he noticed that his knife was missing. He glanced at Joyce, who was watching him like a hawk, discretely. And saw his knife sitting close to her. _When had she done that?_

Steve handed both former assassins a plate of steaming hashbrowns and scrambled eggs. Bucky took his plate with a quiet thank you while Joyce stared at the plate for a long tense moment, before reaching out and placing it next to her. Where she could look at it without outright staring at it. It wasn't the grayish white watery gruel she was use to from the years she was forced to serve HYDRA. Joyce barely remembers the last time she had eggs or potatoes.

She subscoiusly tightened her hand around her knife. She looked up to see her brother's worried, baby blue eyes, when she heard her name being called.

"Joyce, when was the last time you ate anything?" He asked, sounding like the concerned, overprotective brother he was; while handing Peter a plate of eggs.

The younger blonde thought back about it. She was release from cyro-freeze roughly a week ago. They did a scan of her body and mind, then began the experiments. That was the first 3 days; the dam holding back her memories was broken no long afterward, leading to her committing genocide and moving all of the bodies outside, so she wouldn't have to look at them and think about what she just did, as she began to put her scattered memories back together.

Joyce floated in and out of consciousness for a while afterwards, and was just fully waking up when Steve, Barnes and Natasha had found and confronted her. More like she confronted them. But not once did she care for herself.

"I haven't eaten since I was released from cyro-freeze. Roughly 10 days ago." Joyce confesses after a long, couple of minutes. Looking down at the plate of warm food. Not being able to look Steve in the eye. Because she knew the look that was surely in his eyes.

"Joyce, please eat something." The female flinched at the pleading tone in his voice, the slightly frightened look in his eyes made her shudder, bits of memory flashed before her eyes, distant voices pleading for their lives echoing in her ears.

"I umm..." She trailed off, as her eyes screwing shut as horribly detailed bits of memory pushed to the forefront of her mind. Her body tense and trembling, her heart pounding as she let loose a long string of colorful curses in Russian, causing Bucky's eyes to widen as he took a bite of fluffy egg.

The brunet knew what was going on her, it's happened to him, far to many times. When too many bad memories are triggered and come rushing back, it induces both an anxiety attack and a panic attack. And do you know what happens when someone like Joyce or Bucky has that kind of mental attack - someone will most likely get hurt.

Bucky's eyes flashed to a worried looking Peter, who had stopped eating to watch the adults. "Steve you need to get Peter out of here, now." The brunet warned his best friend as he slowly put his fork down.

Steve turned to him with sad eyes, already figuring out that he accidentally triggered Joyce. The blond very clearly remembers a major attack Bucky had and the several broken ribs that came out him not using caution. "Are you okay doing this by yourself?" He questioned softly as he quickly got Peter and begin to retreat to Peter's playroom.

Bucky nodded, keeping his eyes on Joyce and Steve sighed as Peter began to ask question. Steve explained that there was some things that Uncle Bucky needed to help Aunt Joyce work through. That it was best if they allowed them some alone time.

Joyce brought her knees up to her chest, as she covered her ears, trying to block out the pleading voices that bounced around in her mind without end. She whimpered and cursed and plead in Russian, reverting back, forgetting English. Though Bucky was fluent in Russian, so there wasn't a language barrier to worry about.

What there was to worry about was that Joyce could attack at any moment, and that she had his knife as well. Along with the fact that she would probably try to kill him if he wasn't careful about it.

So the metal armed man, slowly and carefully, walked in front of the unpredictable and suffering blonde - who was also armed with a knife clutched in one of her hands. Bucky made sure he was out of her immediate stabbing range and that his hands were up in surrender. Knowing what it's like to go through an attack like her's.

"Hey Doll." Bucky called out, using his pet name for her, back from the '30s and '40s. Her eyes snapped opened and focused sharply on him. Just how he wanted her to do.

"NO! I'm not her! You're not him!" She exclaimed in Russian, standing up on the counter and getting into a fighting stance. Her right leg ready to strike at moment's notice.

Bucky flinched, but kept calm, though he felt his pulse skip a beat. "You're right, I'm not him, and you're not her." He agreed, his voice gentle. She flinched visibly, her eyes darting around looking for an exit.

Bucky took a step forward and her eyes snapped to him. "The Bucky you once knew, he's gone, but not lost. He combined with the Winter Solider to survive. I'm them." Bucky explained, inching his way closer to the unstable Joyce.

Joyce was quiet for a long time, her breathing ragged. "She's gone too." The blonde finally said, her voice pained and choked. She was seconds away from crying.

"I didn't remember anything, before it was there and-and..." She confessed, finally breaking down, sodding as she dropped her knife. It bounced off the counter and onto the floor as she dropped to her knees on the counter, curling into a ball. Bucky rushed over to her, and rolled her onto her side, so he would be able to see her face.

"There was so much pain... so much... I wanted to die, I just wanted it to end." She sobbed, holding tightly onto Russian, curling up tightly. Her face buried in her hands. "They took him from me!" She screamed, causing Bucky to furrow his brows, worried and confused.

"Who'd they take from you?" Bucky asked, placing his hand on her shoulder. Joyce didn't answer right away, only crying harder. A heavy, sinking feeling tied up his stomach. "Who did they take from you?" Bucky questioned more firmly, as he bit back his anxiety.

She finally looked at him, in the eye, with woeful, broken ones. "My child." She gasped out, whimpering as more tears rolled down her tear-stained face.

"Who was the father?" Bucky half panted out, almost afraid of her answer. Hazy memories flashed in his mind, telling him he already knew the answer.

Joyce choked on a sob, "You... he was James' son." The blonde sobbed harder. Grief swallowing her whole and pulling her in deep as Bucky froze to his spot. Vague memories of drunken sex at an Independence Day party with her, arose. Along with weeks of avoidance afterwards, leading up to her 'death', and he never got to confess...

Bucky could've had a family with this woman, but he guessed that it wasn't ever really in the cards for them, not back then, and definitely not now. But maybe, just maybe, he had a chance at having a relationship with her. The woman he once loved.

"I'm sorry." The brunet didn't know why he suddenly apologized, but it felt like the right thing to do right now. Joyce looked up at him, tears slowing down, but not stopping. She reached out a hand, placing it on his chest, right above his racing heart. Joyce's breath hitched as she forced herself to sit up. Bucky's hands landed on either side of her as she supported weight with her other hand.

Distress and sadness swan in her sky blue eyes as she stared at his chest. "Who are you? You are both the Winter Solider and James Barnes. Yet neither of them... Can I even trust whoever you might be?" She mumbled quietly in Russian. Her eyes lifted to Bucky's. Her expression torn between two selves.

"Can... Can I hold you?" He asked, though he wasn't excepting a positive answer. Yet that's what he got in the form of a slow nod from the blonde. Bucky gently wrapped his arms around her, bringing her close to his chest. Joyce was tense for a moment, before relaxing. Looks like her old self is winning her over when it comes to him.

She buried her face in his chest and cried until she ran out of tears and passed out. Bucky looked down at her red and tear-stained face and decided he wanted to try and savage their relationship from 70 years ago. To relearn her and have her open up to him.

Gently, Bucky fully scooped up Joyce and brought her to the couch - the knives in hand after a split second decision - and settled down with her curled up in his lap, clutching to the fabric of his shirt as she slept uneasily.


End file.
